Chapter 22 #2
“I just mean…hook up in here.” My voice goes low, trying to be sexy even though I feel like I’m totally failing at that.
My hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, and I slowly tug it down.
He doesn’t stop me, which feels like a good sign.
Maybe I’m not totally fucking this up. “You know, you always hear about a roll in the hay or teenagers hooking up in the hayloft. I was far too much of a goody two-shoes to do anything like that, but I could daydream.”
I slide my hands into his jeans, cupping him over his boxer briefs. He’s already hard, and I grin.
“And this is what I always thought about.
“Wren,” he says in warning.
“Please,” I whisper.
“What if someone—”
“I locked the door and put on the deadbolt that locks it from the inside.” It’s a feature I later found out was intended to allow my mom to come in here and wrap presents without anyone sneaking in.
Right now, I’m grateful for it. “And everyone is busy up at the main house.” My hand squeezes him a bit, and he groans, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.
“Please. It’s what I really want,” I add with wide eyes, biting my lips.
It’s manipulative, I know. It’s using his own words against him, but if he’s going to challenge me and push me into the uncomfortable territory of putting myself first, getting what I want, and asking for what I want, then I’m going to get what I want.
And right now, I really want to suck Adam off.
Thankfully, I don’t have to ask again—it works like I thought it would. His hand moves to my chin, tipping my face up to look at him better, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone as he stares down at me.
“How on earth am I ever supposed to say no to you?” he asks in a whisper, and it feels almost like a genuine question, one that settles in my stomach sweet and warm before I smile at him.
“You’re the one who told me I need to ask for what I want and not worry about what everyone else thinks.”
“I did, didn’t I? Can’t say I thought making you a little more selfish would benefit me so well.” That thumb moves along my cheek once more, then slides down to tug at my bottom lip before he speaks again, this time the words low and rumbling.
“What do you want, Birdie?”
There’s no hesitation with my answer.
“I want to suck your cock, Adam.”
“Fuck,” he groans, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his hand shifts his pants aside, reaching in and pulling out his thick, hard cock. I sit back on my heels, watching the show before me.
“Stroke it for me,” I whisper, my eyes locked. He lets out an unsteady breath that shoots right to my clit, but does what I ask, his hand wrapping his thick cock and tugging from base to tip.
“Nothing is hotter than you telling me what you want.”
I sit back on my heels and watch him fuck his hand. A small whimper leaves my lips as I watch his hand tighten toward the top, a drop of precum beading at the head. My breathing goes ragged, and I lick my lips.
“My turn. Let me suck you.”
“Whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, voice strained, before I replace my hands with his, using both to pump him.
He groans loudly, and it gives me a surge of confidence, making me feel sexy and powerful as I dip my head and run the flat of my tongue over the head of his cock, lapping up the salty liquid there.
His breath hitches as I wrap my lips around the head and suck, and a moan falls from his lips as I slide down and then back.
“What a pretty little thing, my Wren. On her knees for me, sucking my cock so good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands move, brushing and gathering my hair into one hand, getting it out of my face. “So fucking good, baby.”
I thrive at these words, at the confirmation that I’m pleasing him, and I move faster, taking him deeper. My hand wraps around the base to jack the bit I can’t fit into my mouth, and my head bobs over him, feeling him lengthen and throb in my mouth.
I begin to squirm, wildly turned on by the noises he’s making, by what I’m doing, by the mere fact I’m bringing him so much pleasure. I shift, trying to press my thighs together, to find some angle where I can get the proper pressure on my clit to alleviate the ache between my legs.
With the next stroke, I take him deeper than ever, and his cock slides deep into my throat, and I moan around him as his hand tightens in my hair, the sound garbled. It seems to be a tipping point for him.
“Fuck it,” he says, and he’s shifting, popping my mouth off his cock and bending to put his hands beneath my arms. Then I’m moving as he lifts me, situating me until I’m straddling his legs, my dress pooling around us, his stiff cock between us.
His hand moves, his thumb pressing right where my clit is beneath my panties and tights.
“Is this pussy wet for me?” I pant as his lips press to my jaw, and he peppers kisses along my neck.
“Wren.” It’s a command to answer that I hear through a thick haze of lust.
“Yes.” The word comes out in a long breath as his hand moves to my hip, pulling me to grind against him.
“From sucking me off?”
“Yes,” I groan, tilting my hips, desperate to find some kind of friction for my clit.
“Let me check,” he says. I expect him to slide a hand down my belly, beneath my tights, and into my underwear, but that isn’t what happens.
Instead, both of his strong hands move to the crotch of my tights, and he grips them on either side of my center. I let out a shocked gasp as the admittedly thin fabric tears, giving him the perfect access to my panties.
“Adam!” I gasp in admonishment, but there’s no time for any other argument, not when he’s sliding my underwear to the side, not when he’s dipping one thick finger into me. He groans at the feel, and I echo it, my hips moving.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His finger moves out, then slides back in, slowly fucking before sliding in a second.
“Adam,” I whisper. It’s building faster than ever before, the pleasure swirling in my belly, but I still need more. I need his finger on my clit or I need him to fill me more…something. Anything.
He knows that, and as seems to be his way, Adam has a plan.
“I gotta get you close, because I am not going to last long. Not with the visual of you kneeling before me, sucking my cock fresh in my mind, not with those little, needy sounds you’ve been making, and sure as fuck not with the way you’re squeezing my fingers.
” His words are a low growl, vibrating through me and sending me higher.
“Adam,” I breathe.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Taking what you want, what you need, asking me for what you want. Being selfish. Nothing turns me on more.”
I nod, barely able to push the following words out without moaning to do just that.
“Fuck me, Adam,” I groan. He said he wants me to ask for what I want. That’s what I want.
He smiles then, wide and proud.
“There she is,” he murmurs, then slides his fingers out, pinching my clit and pulling a mewl from my lips as he does.
I open my mouth to argue about his teasing, but then he’s lifting me with one hand and using the other to guide his cock between us.
Once the head is positioned, I fight the urge to slam down on him, to give myself the exquisite fullness I’ve come to expect with him.
Instead, I let him take the lead, his hands going to my hips beneath my dress, slowing my descent.
It’s torture.
The most beautiful, magical, breathtaking torture as I feel every inch of him filling me, as our labored breaths mingle, as he presses soft kisses to my lips and my cheeks and my jaw and my neck as if he can’t stand not touching me incessantly.
When my hips settle on his lap, we both let out a deep groan. I lift my hips once, then drop again, sighing with pleasure, but when I try to do it again, he stops me.
“No, no. Grind on me, baby. Take what you need.”
I drop my head forward into his neck, breathing heavily, trying not to scream from the pleasure flooding my body.
His hands grip my hips under the floaty skirt of my dress, grinding my hips along him in a way so reminiscent of our first time, encouraging me to take what I need.
With each movement, my clit grinds against him, and his cock fills me a bit deeper.
The angle is perfect, the way we’re both sitting up, meaning I have the most direct pressure on my clit with each movement.
I experiment with lifting my hips just a bit, then shifting to grind as I fill myself with him and bite back a shout at the way it makes that tension in my belly tighten faster.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans, clearly liking that as much as I did. I do it again and again, and soon I’m teetering on the edge.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I murmur. My underwear is cutting into my hip, but it doesn’t distract me or take away from anything—instead, it’s the opposite, adding to the layers of pleasure I’m feeling.
“Come on, baby. Come on. Fuck, that’s what I want. I want to feel you come around me.”
That does it.
The people pleaser, who has been pushed back as of late, comes out and gives Adam what he needs—what we need—and I come around him, biting into his shoulder as stars burst behind my eyelids, and my body rocks against his.
Tremors rack through my body as I come and come, and somewhere through it, I feel his hands go to my hips, lift and drop me a few times, fucking me hard and deep to get himself where he ends up.
Finally, a deep groan leaves his chest, and he fills me, triggering a second, smaller, though no less blissful, orgasm from me as he finishes coming inside.
“You know, I really think I’m starting to see the allure of the holiday spirit,” he murmurs as we both come down from our high.
I laugh the entire time we clean up.